


Sanctified Temptation

by SquirrelCavalry



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Angst, Asphyxiation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feather Play, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Strong Language, Touch-Starved Cloud Strife, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrelCavalry/pseuds/SquirrelCavalry
Summary: Overall fic summary: A journey through the original story compilation while exploring exciting new possibilities thanks to the remake; FFVIIOG updated, modified, and rearranged with love and care; nostalgia with a twist.Chapter 1 summary: Set immediately after the very end of Final Fantasy VII Remake. Cloud and company trudged through the wilderness before happening upon a hotel in Kalm for some much-needed R&R. Cloud accidentally summons his nemesis who has plans for his subjugation.Chapter 2 summary: In Kalm, Cloud explains his harrowing experiences regarding Sephiroth to the group as they try to grapple with and piece together the mystifying occurrences surrounding their confrontation. Sephiroth returns to torment his prize, then things take a turn for the worse as Cloud and gang run across an unexpected visitor.Tags/Characters to be updated as chapters are added.Fic contains spoilers from FFVII original game, FFVII: Crisis Core, and FFVII Remake.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 25
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

They had not thought through their escape from Shinra very well, did they? Zero provisions, zero plans and zero direction. They had abandoned Midgar with nothing more than the clothes and weapons on their backs and the gil in their pockets. 

They had trudged through the wilderness on foot for days before managing to find some semblance of civilization. Hungry, filthy, and exhausted, but somehow, they had retained their high spirits. There was an electricity in the air, an excitement that could not be properly defined. It had pushed them onward with uplifting liveliness and hope in their hearts; something that had seemed sorely lacking for a long time. 

When they came to a hotel, the first thing they debated were room assignments. Red wanted to save gil and pile everyone into the same room. He did not understand why that was unacceptable, like they were to sleep like hamsters, all of them huddling in the corner for warmth and affection. With the edge of his vision, Cloud swore he saw Tifa eyeing him with a mischievous grin from Red’s suggestion. When he fully turned his attention to her, she feigned a look of total innocence.

“The hell you talking about, Red!? I am getting my own room! I am tired of you curling up on my chest like you are a damn house cat!” Barret growled. 

Red’s fiery tail drooped in dejection. 

“It would be nice to enjoy some privacy… for just a little?” Aerith quipped gently with a tender smile towards Red, trying to smooth over his frayed feelings. 

“Seriously, shit! I have had enough of the camping-out-in-the-open lifestyle. Fuck it! At least for one damn night, give me a bed and one to myself!” roared Barret. 

“What do you think, Cloud?” Tifa asked him.

“I’m fine with whatever. We have enough gil to splurge a little.” 

He was not quite sure when he had become the group’s treasurer, or for that matter, their leader. It kind of just had happened. 

So, it was agreed upon; a separate room for each of them to enjoy. It would be far more expensive of course, but they believed they deserved a tiny bit of luxury considering all they had been through.  


Each room had its own queen-sized bed and a full, private bathroom. And it was a good thing too because he had uncomfortably realized that parts of him were caked with alternating dirt, sweat, dirt, and sweat. He was like a parfait of wretchedness. A shower was warranted and was a welcomed distraction from the troubled thoughts raging through his mind. 

Afterward, he pulled on his First-class SOILDER combat slacks and sweater, but when he took an exhausted look at his gear piled upon the lone table, he fell backward into the bed with a heavy sigh, lost in his thoughts. He forwent putting on the rest of his armor for now. He just wanted to get his thoughts straight; they were abrasive, incessant, and grating.

Thoughts drifted to the moment his companions and himself looked over the horizon at the city of Midgar. Things were a little hazy to be honest, which was one of the reasons it bothered him. How did he get back to them without hassle? Had he not been somewhere totally impossible? The Edge of Creation? Then how the hell did he get back with his friends? With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts to the side because they were aggravating. Instead, something else was seriously bothering him, but for different reasons.

He was both surprised and relieved that no one had asked him why he had been fondling a black feather that had undoubtedly come from _him_. He was also a little relieved that the feather had disintegrated in his palm after he harshly closed his hand around it because if not, he probably would have pocketed it shamelessly. 

His face crinkled in disgust that he had just considered that. What was his problem? Was he going to lose his shit now whenever he just so happened to see a black feather? He was frustrated with himself because this topic was clearly using up too much of his mental processing power. But the very moment he chastised himself, his thoughts drifted right back to it like a fucking weirdo. 

What was that wing anyway? And why only one? Seemed asymmetrical. And why now? _He never had a wing before this_. It frightened him, allured him, and left Cloud in awe. He could not stop thinking about it. That obsidian wing that had jettisoned out of his nemesis’s back, and along with it, a tremendous amount of ascendency, had been wholly unexpected and surprising in the heat of their battle. It was terrifying, but also beautifully magnificent. 

He wanted to see it again.

He staggered clumsily off the bed, disoriented because something felt alarmingly wrong as if a coming storm were on the near horizon; terrible, powerful, and suffocating. 

Suddenly, pain blossomed in his mind. His head was nearly torn asunder in overwhelming agony; a searing, piercing throb ruthlessly ransacked his skull and invaded his brain. White noise ravaged his senses and his vision glitched before he screwed his eyes shut. A heavy gasp burst from his lungs followed by a truncated wail that pitifully eased from clenched teeth as he doubled over. He desperately clawed at his head, hands fully sinking into blonde locks and digging into his scalp, applying firm pressure in a vain attempt to suppress the dominating pulsations. 

These horrendous headaches had become stronger recently and it was getting increasingly difficult to remain cognizant. While not all seizure episodes had a trigger that he could easily identify, most of them certainly did. The realization of what may be arriving caused dread to rupture into the pit of his stomach that knotted in trepidation and anticipation. A soft cry of alarm whined from him as he stumbled forward with a growing sense of terrible urgency and anxiety. With the pain still destroying his senses and darkness still crowding his vision, he was only weakly aware of where he was in the room. He struggled to remember exactly where he had leaned Twin Stinger, but wielding his blade right then was a frivolous venture; he could barely stand. 

The unmistakable fragrance combination of oiled leather, polished steel, and spiced vanilla wafted from behind him. His heart plummeted while his blood pressure skyrocketed. Wrists that were still buried in his hair were encompassed by large hands clad in black. The pain immediately stopped. There was a fleeting moment in which he softly sighed in relief, his face that had been wincing in terrible pain was relaxed and softened. That moment quickly passed before Cloud tensed in alarm, gritted his teeth in resentment, and attempted to jerk his wrists from the hold. The conflict was both familiar and foreign. At the Edge of Creation, a similar confrontation had occurred, but unlike that event, when he aimed to free himself here, the hold was not broken; _he did not yield_. 

Fear shot up his spine and the terror of his situation only grew more pressing as he realized just how helpless he was to be. Cloud’s arms were leisurely being pulled backward, agonizingly gradual, like prey being caught in a trap and could only watch helplessly as the latch to his prison slowly closed around him. His eyes darted around in a desperate trepidation before widening when he found Twin Stinger. The impressive-looking weapon was resting against the wall, nearly within reach. If only he could release one arm, he could reclaim his sword and have a solid chance. 

“Get off me!” he shouted, trying to mask the horrifying panic that was sweeping over him. 

He struggled like wild game, thrashing back and forth for a long stretch of time until he was reduced to panting overexertion, his body quivering with muscle fatigue. Cloud was powerful in his own right, with enough strength and skill to cut through entire buildings, but here he was, writhing feebly against what seemed like an immovable onyx monolith. 

A dark chuckle vibrated the air behind him, the tone of which caused the hair to stand on the back of Cloud’s neck. He was alerted to the sound of leather creaking as the man behind him leaned in. The other was close, too close.

“Not this time, _Cloud_ ,” the soft baritone voice rolled his name with lingering malice. There was an unspoken yet implied promise of depravity hinging on every word. 

The words were breathed across Cloud’s bare shoulder causing fear and revulsion to spasm through his body. At some point during his tremors, his arms had been fully locked behind him, his wrists nearly fused into place by a single large hand enveloping them together in an unshakable grip. 

Any hope he had of freedom evaporated into nothing. He was unable to suppress a sorrowful sob that broke from him in a pitiful lament.

“Let me go…” Cloud weakly requested, hating the sound of his own voice. It sounded fragile. 

In self-loathing, his pride flared, and he flailed again with renewed strength and determination that sparked in tenacious, gleaming blue eyes. He persistently glared at Twin Stinger; eagerness for that weapon in his hand drove him to violently contort his body as he stubbornly attempted to assault his captor. When that failed, he adamantly strained every muscle against the impossibly impenetrable fortress that held him fast until he slumped into a gasping, jittery mess. 

“Oh? Did you not yearn for my presence?” the voice soothed over him like a poisoned mist. 

“What? I-” Cloud did not have a chance to articulate his fearful confusion before he became hyper-aware of a gloved hand that came into uncomfortably intimate focus. 

Both of his wrists were pinned behind his back by the other’s left hand, but the other’s right hand was quite at leisure to do as it pleased, much to his horror. The elegantly long, black-clad fingers fanned out against his abdomen and applied gentle pressure until Cloud was pushed flush up against the other’s torso. Lengthy silky tresses of platinum cascaded over Cloud’s bare shoulders and framed either side of Cloud’s face like a veil, smothering and containing him. Surreal claustrophobia of forced powerlessness crept up his spine. He did not know when they had started, but whimpers of his gripping fear were freely escaping slightly parted lips. 

Those whimpers were cut with a sharp gasp of turmoil as the other’s right hand slid under the rim of his turtleneck sweater and slowly snaked up his bare chest, gliding exploratively over toned musculature as it did so. 

“Stop!” he cried out in resistance. He tried to squirm away from the unwelcomed hand, but he was helpless to halt its advances. 

“You called out to me and yet you oppose me when I answer? Naïve,” the taller man nearly purred in satisfaction. 

The hand traveled up further, forcing the sweater to slide up along the invading arm. The man was clearly unhindered by Cloud’s protests and mental deterioration. The collar of the turtleneck bulged outward as the hand underneath found its mark and delicately laid claim to the blonde’s throat. The gentle caress of thumb and forefinger pressed up against either side of his neck. The cool, light touch of smooth, chilled leather made him aware of his racing, heavy pulse, and feverish skin. 

With a light clink of armor and a shift in weight, the other moved in closer still. Cloud’s breath hitched as the other’s warm sigh washed over the bare skin of his jawline; his golden spikes oscillating slightly. 

“Wh-what are y-you-,“ Cloud stuttered hazily. 

His voice was cut off by the unexpected; the overwhelming sensation of what followed cowed him into stupefied silence. 

Cloud’s left earlobe had been gently seized by lips and drawn into a luxuriously warm and moist embrace. With skin on skin contact, something deeply dark and grievous took root within Cloud. 

A jolt of impossible electricity of attraction surged through his body. Such a simple contact of lips on skin should not feel this intense, feel this amazing, feel this _dangerous_. Something was terribly wrong. Something was terribly right. 

_Reunion._

His silver-studded earring was lightly suckled, tongue lapped over it, and for the first time in the encounter, a timid moan of pleasure slowly eased from a captivated Cloud. His moan increased in intensity as a canine slid right into the piercing between the earring and ear and nestled in there avariciously. Cloud’s entire being shuddered with gratification. 

There was a hum of contentment that rumbled in the other’s throat. His captor bit down a little harder and then released slowly. 

Cloud’s very existence was in a full haze, he struggled with even the most basic of concepts, such as breathing, but in the very recesses of his mind, the small part of him that did not absolutely _love this_ was still lashing, still fighting to remain vigilant. _Do not lose yourself,_ it demanded, _he is trying to force you to want it._

____

____

His eyes focused with great difficultly, but he managed to pull himself from oblivion, but only just.

Blue mako infused eyes flared in rage as he regained some mental resistance. 

“You sick bastard!” Cloud seethed, almost as angry with himself as he was with the other that haunted him.

Cloud _hated_ this man; how could he enjoy this attention? This man… he… he was sinister, vengeful, malicious, possessive, obsessed, dominant, cruel, and sadistic. He burned Cloud’s hometown to nothing but ashes… he killed Cloud’s mom! With a war cry, Cloud thrashed violently against the other with the agonizing memories of a blaze that destroyed his life and poisoned his mind. His captor refused to yield even an inch. His fight was beyond hopeless. When his failure to escape his conqueror was cemented, and he was defeated beyond his will to physically resist, he surrendered, and it crushed him to do so. His legs gave out with exhaustion, but the other fully supported his weight, holding him up close, but gently, so very gently. Cloud’s eyes glazed over with the shame and indignity of a forced submission as his body shook with sobs of pent up despair. 

This man… This man took everything from him, _and he still takes_ … but… 

But he was also… he was also… Cloud’s eyes wavered as they softened, a soft tremor running through his body. The other’s grip on him tightened covetously. This man… This man that towered over him was also… he was also… the one that Cloud had respected and adored for nearly his entire life. 

This spiteful god was…

Peerless. 

Unequaled. 

_Omnipotent._  
…  
_Elegant._  
…  
…  
_Gorgeous._  
…  
…  
…  
_Exquisitely Perfect._

“Sephiroth,” he barely whispered the man’s name in reverence, not even aware he had done so.

It was then that the hand that was holding his throat slid upwards to grasp Cloud’s jaw from beneath, and slowly tilted Cloud’s head backward until he met _those eyes._ Those infinitely authoritative, knowing, and influential eyes that demanded obedience pierced into his soul. Cloud was wholly entrapped by them; unable to think, unable to speak, unable to breathe.

With no hope and _no desire_ to escape that intoxicating gaze, all Cloud could do was silently, and helplessly, stare up at the shimmering of sea green and the small fluctuations of sharp, slitted pupils. Long curls of platinum hung down around Sephiroth like dangling icicles, framing his impossibly beautiful and majestic masculinity. 

“There was something you wished of me. Do you remember, Cloud?” 

Sephiroth’s lulling words cascaded over him like water, leaving Cloud feeling submerged, encompassed, and desired. Cloud sunk back into that immensely strong frame, his once tense body relaxing fully against the other man who bore his entire weight effortlessly. 

“Shall I remind you, then?”

His captor nuzzled into the collar of his sweater and was placing firm kisses over the pulse of his neck. Lips then latched onto the sensitive and delicate skin there, forming a suction and lightly drawing skin upwards into an alluring warmth. Cloud’s eyelids fluttered closed and his back arched reflexively from the numbing intensity of that contact. Cloud was unable to answer the other’s question; the sounds coming from him were neither structured nor sentient. Even if Cloud knew what it was that Sephiroth was asking of him, he would not have been able to cohesively form a working sentence because of the multitude of moans easing from panting breaths. 

There was a rustling of movement; a soft wind briefly grazed across his cheek. Blurry, unfocused eyes opened and peered out at the wall where their shadows were cast. What should have been a fused silhouette of both men was joined by something very large that had stretched out from Sephiroth’s right side. 

A wing.

Immediately, Cloud attempted to jerk his head to look at it, but Sephiroth’s hand still firmly held his jaw, forcing Cloud to remain bound. 

“So eager,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

The resplendent, ebony wing gradually edged into his field of vision; the sight so wondrous that air was caught in Cloud’s throat. The entire beautiful structure briefly shivered, causing a multitude of glossy, black covert feathers to raise then lower hypnotically. One covert feather appeared to have been shaken free and it slowly drifted to the floor in soft, swaying motions. 

He wanted to blurt out a question regarding how many feathers were jostled out in a day, but then his brain rebelled and asked him right back: _do you know how many hairs you lose in a day? Don’t say stupid shit, moron._

Cloud did not have time to get pissed at his own contradictory thoughts. The long, primary flight feathers ruffled as they were drawn low to the ground before they were gently pressed to Cloud’s legs and combed upwards, dragging lightly across fabric. Before long, they had brushed up against the bulge in Cloud’s combat slacks and his entire world flashed white. He gasped so hard that he felt his lungs would burst. He suddenly became hyper-aware that he was throbbing painfully against his constricting slacks. How could he possibly not have noticed this earlier? Was it because Sephiroth was only now drawing attention to it? Shame washed over him. _When did this happen?!_

Were not even his thoughts sacred? Sephiroth answered his mind’s torment, much to his horror.

“The very moment I claimed your wrists, and up until now.”

“No…” Cloud lamented in a low whine.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said with a cruel chuckle. Sephiroth caressed his cheek up against the side of Cloud’s jaw before landing small but succulent kisses down the line. 

The atmosphere changed. It had been more relaxed before, but now, a promise of ruin heavily hung in the room. There was an appetite that needed to be sated, and that craving was predominate in deep pools of wicked green that glared hungrily down upon Cloud like a famished predator. The hand that had been gently holding Cloud’s jaw sunk back to his throat and clamped around it brutally. The blonde cried out momentarily before his air passage became tight and restricted, suffocating him and leaving the passage open just enough to allow a meager amount of air to enter. He gasped helplessly as he strained against his ruthless taskmaster, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He had enough air for a single sob that pushed through his tethered throat, but not much else.

Despite his discomfort and growing panic from his very breath being forcefully regulated, his attention was immediately demanded elsewhere. Those graceful, aerial feathers had once again delicately brushed up against the focus of his urgency. More pressure, he was desperate for more pressure. He tore away from any pretense of inhibition and bucked hard into the feathers, but they gave easily away with barely so much as a phantom touch. He groaned in dire need, his thighs quivering with critical demand. 

A tyrannical chuckle broke from his tormenter, but it was quickly forgotten as Cloud lurched his hips into the air, chasing any sort of friction, _anything at all,_ but mercilessly receiving nothing. A heavy whine of chained necessity pathetically whimpered from him, his member pulsating for any attention, but he was cruelly ignored. The wing glided over the exposed flesh of his torso where the sweater had been pulled up, tingling every micron of his abdomen. He bit his lip to prevent from crying out if only to conserve what little air he was granted. His eyes rolled back into his head, but before he could pass out, he was allocated more air, and with it, he violently bucked into the void in front of him once again.

His pelvis hit a solid object this time, and he grinded into it with delirium. The black that crept across his vision cleared up as the ruthless pressure upon his throat was momentarily diminished before clamping again. With this window, he saw that the object he sought was Sephiroth’s other hand and he drove into it with a blistering urge. The hand toyed with him, teased him malevolently. Its fingers lightly glided with an agonizingly slow pace up Cloud’s length that strained hopelessly against thick, unyielding material. He cried out from the intimate torture, but it was truncated with the merciless clenching of his throat. He would have pathetically begged, pleaded for leniency, but he was so deprived of oxygen, he could only gasp like a landlocked fish when he was allowed the mercy to breathe.  


An inhuman amount of pressure was exerted upon his trachea again. Cloud’s entire body trembled with the stress, the fear, and the lust. The hand on his groin pushed hard, sliding down the trapped member in one single, powerful stroke. White flashes sparked in his mind as he began to approach climax. He was close, _he was so close._ Sephiroth’s hand rested flush against the entirety of his member over the coarse cloth, applying only the faintest amount of pressure and heat to signify that it was even there. But this was not enough, this was not nearly enough! Muscles across his body rippled taunt in anticipation of orgasm. He needed more attention urgently, and he needed it _now._ Cloud fiercely and vigorously bucked into the hand that lied idle on his groin, but to his total dismay, the hand moved in perfect sync with his jerking motions, giving him zero friction. 

His mind screamed in frustration with his climax quickly approaching. Tears streamed down his face in sexual anguish as he mindlessly bucked hard into that hand repetitively, but it glided effortlessly with his spasmed movements, giving him no reward, and only further hounding his gripping need that throbbed at his very being. His member strained with labored, blazing intensity, only to be sadistically withheld any satisfaction for his torment. His misery erupted on full display as his body convulsed with the blinding plateau that was chained and withheld as he was forced to linger on the precipice of delirious desire. Cloud’s back fully arched against his physical and sexual shackles, his eyes rolled deep into his head, his mouth gaped open in a silent scream that too was denied from him. Seed erupted and soiled the inside of his slacks, but it gave him no solace. The terribly pained release offered him only bound agony.

A moment later, Sephiroth let him breathe again, but all Cloud could do was let out a long, horribly sorrowful wail of a ruined orgasm.

“Exquisite,” Sephiroth sighed contently before he buried a possessive kiss within Cloud’s sweaty and matted golden hair. 

For how long he limply hung there, he could not be certain. The passage of time left Cloud wondering if he was still alive; his body was completely numb all over. Movement across his groin instantly reminded him of his pained existence. Sephiroth’s hand was removed which elicited a low, pleading whine of abandonment that rumbled Cloud’s parched throat. He was still harrowingly erect, the ruined orgasm had only heightened his need, not diminished. 

Sinister eyes washed over his own. Shimmering, intense green captured hazy, unfocused blue that was completely devoid of any fight. 

“What happened to that boundless depth of resolve, Cloud? _I was expecting more from you._ ” 

Those ominously amused, foreboding slitted orbs shone with a hint of madness as he taunted his prize.

“Perhaps I should have just _fucked_ you on _that day_ instead of puncturing you. I would have had a more pliant result, yes?”

The most malignant laugh he had ever heard reverberated deep in Sephiroth’s chest as if he were infinitely entertained by some twisted, evil secret. 

Cloud had no words to respond, nor complex thoughts to process, because that hand had returned, and with it, a new strew of vexatious stimuli. He was only dimly aware of the sound of something dropping to the floor but realized exactly what it was when a _bare_ hand caressed the fit, muscular curvature of his abdomen. His entire being was riveted with overwhelming sensations. Moans and whimpers poured from him like a waterfall.

His vision flashed; his heart jarred in his chest. _Reunion._

His hips thrusted with desperate need blossoming in his groin, straining to get that naked hand anywhere even close to his pulsating member, but it delicately roamed everywhere but. That delicious hand smoothly sailed across prickled skin as the hair across nearly Cloud’s entire body rose in desire. Fingers played across his nipples; they hardened immediately followed by a heavy groan of want from Cloud. His throbbing length jerked and spasmed within its confinement. 

A low, destitute, and impoverished whine eased from him along with his tormentor’s name. 

“Seph-iroth…”

“Oh? Is there something you want? Make your requests known,” his voice dripped with malice like an executioner. 

_“Touch me… please!”_ he pitifully wailed. 

The bare hand on his chest stalled as if contemplating, before sliding towards the hem of his slacks. Cloud’s breath shuddered with gripping anticipation. He had expected, as before, that Sephiroth would teasingly roam over the plump mound pitifully exerting against fabric. He was resigned to that limited touch being the most he would be granted, but when that hand slid _under_ the hem, his reality shattered. 

Fingers spread and firmly pressed upon Cloud’s hip before the hand slid downward devilishly slowly until the elegantly long ring and middle fingers glided against his base and were lost in blond curls. His length came to rest against and _twitch_ between the two knuckles.

Madness take him! Cloud did not think he would survive. He attempted to buck wildly but was instantly denied, his movement fully restrained with the immense amount of physical and psychological pressure that Sephiroth was exerting. 

“Do not test me,” he stated dangerously, _“you do nothing,”_ the heat of his breath washed over the back of Cloud’s neck.

The chilling warning shot up his spine and a crippling fear seized him once again. The command was painfully clear: Cloud was not to move. The dread of what Sephiroth would do to him if he disobeyed churned his panic, along with the dismay that he was not sure if he could trust his body not to disobey out of overwhelming need. 

His lower lip trembled with a sorrowful whimper. 

That hand that captured every ounce of his attention slid backward slowly and then rolled firmly forwards, only the two knuckles glided up against the entirety of Cloud’s length. _Oh god… oh Sephiroth… please._ Eyes rolled up fully into fluttering lids as incoherent groans whispered from him as if they were prayers. The hand moved backward again, but this time, ring and middle finger lightly pressed to either side of Cloud’s shaft with a single, long, double stroke. His mind reeled and he hinged on hysteria, but somehow the blonde remained still. Those angelic fingers glided along until they reached the soft head, and they gently _tugged_ it. His member wept in desperation; the ache was torture. A few sparse drops of seed dripped from a swollen tip into an awaiting palm. 

Sephiroth’s hand that was sullied with Cloud’s own essence was wrapped tightly around Cloud’s base in a slick but firm embrace. A lightning bolt of pleasure surged through his being and Cloud’s teeth sunk into his own lip, biting clean into the soft flesh there. Blood began to trickle down his chin. The pain was the only thing preventing him from screaming, and if he screamed, he feared he would arch his back, and he was _not to move._ Being forced to observe and not interact, even in the slightest, was reigning havoc on his body.

The hand slowly raised on his length, then lowered down again and rested motionlessly, as if testing his resolve. Cloud’s shallow breaths came in fits, his breathing irregular and almost painful. Keen, penetrating eyes watched Cloud’s suffering with fascination; a callous smile continuously hinted on cruel lips. The hand was moving again, gliding up his length and resting at the flushed head. A thumb slid over the very tip, toying with the tiny entrance, circling it in a counterclockwise motion. Much to Cloud’s horror, a tremor involuntarily claimed his body and shook him so grievously from the seductive attention, that Sephiroth’s armor clanked. 

Malicious, calculating eyes silently appraised him, as if deciding for himself if those sinful movements broke his covenant. Cloud’s heart sank as pleading eyes silently wavered up at his captor. Sephiroth’s expression changed to one Cloud would never have expected: a genuine smile, green eyes softened; it was almost tender. 

Sephiroth was pleased with him; he had pleased Sephiroth. Pride swelled in his chest, a completely foreign yet all too welcomed feeling. 

The hand at his tip screwed gently back and forth, then rested expectantly. Slitted eyes flashed at him with approval.

“Well?” Sephiroth whispered impatiently. 

Cloud’s eyes shot open with the unexpected permission. 

He instantly thrusted into that stationary fist with abandon. The pressure and friction were wondrous. His world was rocked with every hasty barrage into that firm hand that he could manage. He cried out in overwhelming pleasure, which was so intense, he feared he may pass out. He pumped viciously hard into Sephiroth’s right hand and was delighted that the man’s immovable strength applied here as well. He could feel another climax on the near horizon and he feverishly chased it. He almost laughed with the approaching euphoria.

The thumb of a gloved _left_ hand swiped over his chin, removing any trace of blood that had dripped there. Sephiroth then shamelessly drew his tongue over the red liquid, reveling in its flavor. Cloud could only stare, briefly forgetting to jerk again into that inviting hand. His mind was too bombarded to realize that his arms were freed. Cloud still held them tightly behind his back with learned, forced psychological submission.

The other leaned in across his face and lapped that soft tongue over Cloud’s abused lower lip, drawing in the remaining blood that tainted his mouth. The sensuous act excited Cloud and he slammed his groin into that ever-present hand again. _He was so close_ … The blonde eagerly parted his lips to reciprocate the attention he was graced with, more than greedily willing to accept a kiss from that viper. But he was harshly denied as the other pulled away. And when a disappointed whine left his throat, so too did the other’s hand disengage from his member.  


The object of his worship was not so merciful after all. 

“N-no… no, no… p-please, please, Sephiroth, please!” he choked out while bucking blindly for that fist.

Trembling hands went up to claim handfuls of flawless silver. His wrists were free?! For how long? _It doesn’t matter!_ Cloud’s palms sunk into the silky tresses, fingertips digging into the other’s scalp in a deprived plea for clemency. 

His mind and body were shot; there was only one thing in his entire existence that mattered at this singular point of time. A blissful release was absolutely paramount. 

_“Sephiroth, I beg you, mercy! Mercy! Please!!!”_ a slew of whatever pleading he thought could get him sanctuary poured forth from him, so desperate was he. 

When his god did not return, and the searing heat began to wrack him and threatened a destroyed plateau, his eyes rolled back into his head. His abused member trembled and twitched despondently.  


“N-no… p-please…” a low whine; a soft sob of desperation. His eyes were blurred with tears that streamed down his cheeks. His body seized with the overwhelming and oncoming event. He resigned himself to another horribly ruined orgasm. He pitifully convulsed in defeat. 

At the peak of his need, the hand returned and pumped him vigorously. His universe exploded. Cloud arched his back in a taut curve; a piercing, lengthy scream of ecstasy shattered from him and reverberated the walls so strongly that the glass panes of the windows vibrated. He released hard, spilling across his abdomen with excess flowing over the hand that still generously worked him through every muscle spasm. 

Cloud felt like he melted into nothing. Every muscle fiber of his body flexed and rippled with the blazing sensations that deliciously wracked him with velvety bliss. His pupils were fully blown with the afterglow. There was not one atom of his entire existence that was not completely sated and satisfied. Hands that had been tightly gripping fistfuls of Sephiroth’s silver mane slipped listlessly free and began to fall, but gentle hands enveloped those wrists again and guided Cloud’s hands back up into those divine platinum tresses. Cloud’s fingers obeyed and curled once again around those locks, holding on to them like a lifeline because _he_ demanded it. 

Cloud was only weakly aware that his friends had arrived at the scene, crowding outside his hotel room door. Though their voices were muffed through the wall, he could hear their concerned shouts.  


“Holy shit, Cloud! We’re here! What’s happening? Get that damned door open!” demanded Barret. 

“I’ve never heard a scream like that,” Red said with bewilderment. 

The doorknob jostled. “It’s locked! Do you want me to go get the key from management?” Aerith asked. 

“No time. Step aside, everyone. I got this,” Tifa stated dangerously. 

Sephiroth’s hands mercilessly roamed Cloud’s body, eliciting heady moans from the delirious blonde. 

“Curious. Do you think they will immediately turn to challenge me, or will they quietly stand and _watch me ravage you_?” Sephiroth’s voice was like honey-laced destruction. 

The threat of humiliation forced a mortified groan that snapped Cloud out of his stupor. An immense terror of exhibition gripped him as he had never experienced before. He would rather decompose into a viscous liquid and seep into the cracks of the floorboards than allow his cherished friends to see him like this… _with him._

“Tifa, wait!!!” Cloud shrieked. “Tifa! I’m indecent!!!” 

“Hold up!” Barret interjected. 

There was some scuffling. 

“Wha- Hey!! Barret!! Why did you stop me?” Tifa scowled. 

“The man said he was indecent, didn’t you hear?” he responded.

“What’s indecent?” Red inquired.

“That means maybe naked.” Aerith giggled. 

“Oh, well,” Red said, “I thought he slept with his gear on. He always has.”

“Probably because he doesn’t want everyone staring! Give the man some damn privacy. Didn’t I say that earlier? Sometimes you just need some space to wind down fully.” 

“What’s the problem with being naked? I’m naked all the time. You’re staring at me being naked right now,” Red huffed.

“Shit, Red, why do you got to blatantly point that out?” Barret growled in frustration. “Look here, you could use some clothes too, you know! Sometimes when you are excited or relaxed, it pops out and says hello to everyone.” 

Tifa and Aerith burst into embarrassed giggles. “I… I can’t believe you said that!” Tifa said in between exasperated breaths.

Despite himself and the tense situation, Cloud exhaled out a soft laugh and weakly stated, “It’s true though.” 

Red did not sound phased in the least. “So? That is how my anatomy works. Nothing to be ashamed of. You guys are all too modest.” His words were preceded by the sound of his jewelry jingling, the clear sign that he was scratching behind his ear with his hind leg. 

Cloud’s humored laugh hitched as Sephiroth’s insatiable onslaught continued. Wherever that ungloved hand touched felt like tingling fireworks of pleasure were erupting under his skin. Eyelids fluttered in euphoria; his moans and whimpers were increasing in number and becoming more defined. 

_“Stop… they’ll hear_!” Cloud’s panicked voice whispered from in between his lusty gasps. 

“And whose fault would that be? Do not blame others for your own weaknesses,” came the frigid response from his tormenter. 

“Are you sure you are okay, Cloud?” Aerith’s voice still had an air of concern. 

Cloud had to dig deep just to sound like a human being. “Y-yes,” he tried to say with conviction. His word was tapered with a seedy moan that he barely suppressed. “I-I’m just… tired,” he managed to push out, and it was not a lie, he was _fucking exhausted._

“Eh? It was probably just a bad dream. I mean, fuck, I am surprised he doesn’t wake up every night with a bone-shattering scream due to _all this shit_ that has happened,” Barret said thoughtfully.

“Just a bad dream, Cloud?” Tifa asked hopefully.

“You have… n-no idea,” Cloud eased out in between a soft, lustful groan as Sephiroth licked behind his ear. 

“I get nightmares too,” Red added with a sympathetic air. 

Sephiroth kicked up his attention that he mercilessly lavished upon Cloud as if he were amused that his attempt to get Cloud’s friends to notice his dire predicament was foiled.

The blonde’s eyes widened in alarm as there was still the chance that they could overhear and bust down his door. The lewd whimpers came pouring out of him; he could not stop them. His only hope was to muffle them. Hands coursing through silver gripped boldly and pulled the taller man down to offer the other dominion over his lips, desperately pleading him to swallow his suffering.

Sephiroth relented, as if that had been what he had wanted all along, and aggressively claimed those slightly parted lips that Cloud submissively offered up to him as a sacrifice. A domineering tongue invaded that warm crevice brutally, taking ownership of everything and anything it touched. Cloud’s moan loudly vibrated into that engulfing and encompassing mouth as Sephiroth’s hands viciously bruised and clawed across the blonde’s torso and hips, leaving swollen, sweltering marks of possession in their wake. 

“Goodnight, Cloud,” Tifa said with a cheery disposition before the sound of dispersing footsteps were heard. 

Cloud could not even hope to answer her at this moment, so claimed were his lips, and he prayed his otherwise silence did not rouse her suspicion. When the last muffled noise of his friends disappeared, Cloud fully pushed his back into that tower of pleasure behind him, relieved that he survived his companion’s curiosity, but even more relieved that there were no other distractions to deny him this experience. The hands that had left devastation across his body stilled and then drew tight around him in a warm, controlling, _loving_ embrace. Cloud’s own hands roamed through silver and long tendrils of it slid over and pooled upon him like constricting yet inviting vines, consuming him in a beautiful array of platinum curtains. He hungrily opened himself up further to Sephiroth’s invasion, drawing in the other’s tongue and suckling on it gently, longingly… _fervently._ Like a bird of prey, that lustrous, glossy onyx wing folded around Cloud; caressing, holding, smothering him with those feathers as if to say, _‘this belongs to me.’_ Cloud was lost and adrift in a marvelous sea of silver and black. 

The kiss was finally broken as his god leaned over to nuzzle Cloud’s cheek with his own. The blonde turned slightly away to submissively expose more of himself to Sephiroth and allow that man to do as he pleased. 

“My desire for your strength still stands. _Leave them. Join me._ ” Sephiroth purred into Cloud’s neck, a single kiss planted.

A long moment passed. No answer. Sephiroth stirred and relocated his posture to look down into Cloud’s eyes. What he met was unfriendly: like a blue steel trap or a castle gate slamming right in Sephiroth’s face. Cloud did not even have to speak. The hardness of Cloud’s eyes windowed his immensely strong feelings clearly. 

_I do not betray those that trust and rely on me, unlike you._

“Ah, there is that resistance. _Impressive._ I miscalculated,” the former General said as if he were analyzing tactical strategies. “I have the bad habit of underestimating you. No matter.” 

Cloud was forsaken by his deity and unceremoniously dropped. With his strength completely sapped from him, he weakly plummeted to the ground upon his hands and knees; his frame trembling from overstimulation and his panting breaths jarred from him quickly. His skin crawled with the feeling of intense, narrowing green eyes glaring dangerously upon his back. He hugged his bruised and slightly bleeding arms to his chest for some much-needed comfort after a wave of nausea washed over him for being so abruptly discarded.

There was a low hum of approval behind him. 

“Remember this, _Cloud_ ,” that name rolled from vengeful lips. “The moment you think upon our time and yearn, I will return. _And then I will take you_.” His eyes blazed with that dark promise. “Afterwards, when you are nothing but a ruined, hollowed-out shell of your former self, desperately writhing under me, _will I take even more. And you will beg me to do it._ For how long can you chain your mind? I wonder.” 

That insatiable, dark covenant wracked Cloud’s heart and soul with dread and desire simultaneously. His whole body quivered, and he hugged his frame even tighter with a soft whimper. There was a flush of movement and wind. Cloud glanced backward; he was gone, but not without a trace. The once discarded glove had vanished, but the small, black covert feather that had been jostled free earlier still laid unmarred upon the floor. He stared at it with a myriad of supercharged positive and negative emotions surging through his mind.  


It took Cloud an agonizingly long amount of time to decompress, his breathing was nothing but hitched quivers for at least an hour. His heart refused to calm down, the heartbeat was still too irregular and racing. He had remained on the floor in a defeated mound, hands roaming through matted gold repetitively in an attempt to ground himself. Finally, with a breath no more than a shuddered rasp, he peered back at that feather.

His eyes hardened and narrowed as he fully regained his composure. 

“Like hell I will, you bastard…” he whispered with defiance as he reached out to gather that feather in his hand. 

He grimaced down at it with spite. His hand trembled with the desire to crush it to nothing. But a different desire overwrote it.  


“Fuck it,” he stated as he greedily pocketed that shit.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up on the bed and curled into it, ignoring how filthy he was and felt, and suddenly feeling very alone and abandoned.

He realized it was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought to _not think_ about what had just occurred. 

For Cloud, hours dragged on in restless torment. 

Sephiroth watched and patiently waited.


	2. Semblances of Inhibition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Kalm, Cloud explains his harrowing experiences regarding Sephiroth to the group as they try to grapple with and piece together the mystifying occurrences surrounding their confrontation. Sephiroth returns to torment his prize, then things take a turn for the worse as Cloud and gang run across an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am marrying the FF7 original game with what I think I know from the remake, adding my own smutty twist, and then running with it. We will be journeying through the original story while exploring exciting new possibilities thanks to the remake.  
>   
> A large section of the dialogue and recollection from the first part of chapter 2 is taken directly from the original game: updated, modified, and rearranged with love and care; nostalgia with a twist. The second part of the chapter is smut for you to enjoy with riddled hints at plot, and the final part of the chapter introduces a plot surprise.  
>   
> Let’s descend into madness together.  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________

  
_“Damn. You look like shit,_ ” was all the ‘good morning’ Barret afforded him.  
  
Cloud barely heard him as he sluggishly made his way down the stairs that led to the lobby of Kalm’s only inn. It was ironic that the small, _sleepy_ town they were in was called _Kalm,_ because he did not get a single hour of sleep last night, so disturbed by his unwelcomed encounter with _him_ and terrified that it may have repeated if he was negligent or _eager._  
  
“Cloud, you’re late!” Aerith called to him with a teasing smile but when her eyes saw how ragged Cloud appeared, they averted apologetically.  
  
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” was his tired response.  
  
The day prior, before they had all settled in their rooms for the evening, Cloud had mentioned that he wanted to hold a meeting with the gang to explain exactly what he knew so that everyone was on the same page. Many, many things were still confusing to him, but he wanted to at least share the pieces he had so that they might put the confounding puzzle together.  
  
Aerith’s worried eyes watched Cloud as he all but collapsed into one of the chairs. “Guess everyone is here now,” she softly replied.  
  
“So, let’s hear your story,” Barret impatiently interjected. “You know, the one about Sephiroth and the crisis of the planet! Let’s hear it all.”  
  
With a heavy sigh, Cloud leaned forward while running a hand through uncombed and wild saffron. It was a rather harrowing story; he did not look forward to its telling. His elbows rested on his thighs, in which the right one could not stop bouncing with nervous restlessness. He was jittery, his nerves were frayed; he was exhausted and anxious, but he had to keep it together, there were no other options. His friends, his only companions, were relying on him, and that responsibility weighed heavily upon his shoulders. They were trusting that he would tell them the truth, and he would, no matter how depressing the truth might be. A part of him was terrified to recall any memories at all, so fragmented were his thoughts, but they had to start somewhere, and his experiences were vital to their understanding of the larger picture.  
  
“Parts of this are painful for you too,” Cloud said softly as he eyed Tifa, concerned for the other’s wellbeing. “Are you sure you are alright with this?”  
  
With a sad, but reassuring smile, she silently nodded her approval.  
  
Wasting no time, Cloud launched into a hasty beginning, and in hindsight, he probably should have thought through his opener a bit better.  
  
“I used to want to be like Sephiroth, so I joined SOLDIER. After working with Sephiroth on several missions, we became friends.”  
  
He regretted the words before they even finalized out of his mouth. _Well, shit, that was a pathetic start, you idiot._ Cloud winced; his chastising mind was not wrong.  
  
“The fuck?! You call that bastard a friend?” Barret reeled.  
  
“Yeah, well…” Cloud scrambled into damage control. “He was older than me, I was sixteen at the time, and he hardly ever talked about himself. So, I guess you could call us war buddies. We trusted each other. At least… I trusted him. But in truth, I joined SOLDIER and became First-class after the war. Because of that, there were limited chances to tackle challenging foes. So, I always jumped at the opportunity to prove myself with a hard mission. I wanted to make my family and friends proud by becoming a hero, like… _him_.”  
  
_Damnit, that sounds so lame._ He slightly lowered his head as he wrung his hands. This story was already an objective failure straight out the gate. It was so painful to admit these harsh truths to the very people who Sephiroth mercilessly harmed. _You are pitiful now, and you were pitiful then._ His eyelids half closed with lingering shame.  
  
He could not help but steal a wary glance towards Tifa to see how she was faring; the one, beside himself, who would likely hurt the most from his story. She did not look upset, so that was a relief, but she looked concerned… perplexed… confused maybe? He could not place it, but something felt… off.  
  
Their eyes briefly met, and she exchanged a bewildered, troubled look at him. Cloud suppressed a groan. If he were saying something out of line, he had hoped that Tifa would correct him, or tell him to shut up. Was he fucking this up already? _Yeah, you are. The part about you admitting that you admired Sephiroth is the part that’s fucked up. He murdered her father, you miserable little shit._  
  
Cloud’s face must have looked extremely dark because Barret was quick to encourage him, “Relax, man, his image was like Stamp: plastered fucking everywhere. That Shinra propaganda was intense. I think almost every kid in Midgar wanted to be like Sephiroth and probably had one of his posters in their bedroom.”  
  
With a nod, his face softened as his eyes glazed over with recollection. “After the war, it was SOLDIER’s duty to put down any resistance against Shinra. There was word that monsters were running rampant at a malfunctioning reactor at Nibelheim. We were called in to deal with the monsters and then determine the cause of their insurgence. That was five years ago…”  
  
_He spoke of the lengthy ride to Nibelheim, how excited and eager he was to prove himself, how their truck was ambushed by a monster and how mesmerized he was by Sephiroth’s unrivaled prowess. Cloud had spent more time face down in the dirt than fighting any of the monsters. He was so weak and useless compared to Sephiroth, but even so, to fight by his side like that, as if he were an equal, he remembered being… so happy.  
  
When they arrived at Nibelheim, he mentioned how Sephiroth asked about his homecoming, asked about how it felt to return home because Sephiroth did not have a hometown. When Cloud had asked Sephiroth about his own parents, the other was hesitant, perhaps even bitter about the topic, but had mentioned that Jenova was his mother who had died right after his birth…_  
  
“Yo, wait a minute!!” Barret interrupted him, “Isn’t that, uh…? The name of Sephiroth’s mother; I remember Jenova. That’s that damn spook that was displayed in the Shinra science lab, all hooked up with tubes and shit.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s right,” Cloud nodded.  
  
“Barret!” Tifa snapped. “Will you please not interrupt Cloud’s story?”  
  
With a grumble, he kicked at the coffee table in front of him before glaring at Cloud to continue.  
  
“The town was quiet,” Cloud recalled, “Everyone must have been in their houses, afraid to come out because of the monsters. No, maybe they were afraid of us…”  
  
_He spoke of Sephiroth’s permission to visit friends and family. Cloud’s mother had been overjoyed to see him, and he hesitantly mentioned some of her dotings…_  
  
“Cloud, did you go inside my house?” Tifa abruptly interrupted.  
  
“Yeah, I thought you might be home.”  
  
“Did you go into my room?”  
  
“Yeah, I looked around,” he said with a shrug, not ashamed in admitting it.  
  
“Cloud!” Tifa gasped in embarrassment.  
  
“Now who is interrupting and asking wild questions!?” quipped Barret with a degree of amusement.  
  
_Continuing, he spoke of meeting up with Sephiroth along with two assigned infantrymen in front of what everyone had called the ‘Shinra mansion’ on the outskirts of Nibelheim. They had to wait a few extra minutes for their guide to arrive who would show them the best path to the reactor hidden away high in Mt. Nibel. He was surprised when he saw that Tifa had been chosen to be their guide. It was far too dangerous, and he was afraid for her safety. But it would not be an issue if he protected her, right? He had been so quickly reminded by Sephiroth.  
  
Before they journeyed forth, a denizen begged to take a photograph as a memento. Tifa, himself, and Sephiroth posed for the picture…_  
  
He got distracted and paused midsentence when he caught another bewildered look from Tifa. She eyed him with concern. Cloud immediately felt guilty with adding too much minutia regarding her involvement. He wanted to include any detail he felt could be helpful for their understanding but mentioning the photograph was stupid on his part. Why did he anyway? Was it pride? He probably should just keep this simple. _Yeah, you are making it sound like a fucking road trip vacation. Many people’s lives were ruined or ended on that day. Show some damn respect._  
  
“Hey, you’re starting to piss me off,” Barret barked, clearly not appreciating the lull in the storytelling. “Get on with it!”  
  
_The path up the mountain was as dangerous as he expected, littered with monsters, but Sephiroth made quick work out of them. It was so easy for the General, it was a joke. The real issue had been the bridge that connected two high cliffs. They probably all should have shown a little more caution considering the wooden and rope bridge snapped easily under their weight and all five of them plummeted to the ravines below…_  
  
“Shit, were you guys okay?”  
  
“No, Barret. That is when I died,” Cloud said dryly.  
  
“Oh fuck!” then it dawned on him. “S-shut up!”  
  
_Tifa and himself had somehow survived the treacherous fall, but that did not mean everyone came out unscathed. One of the infantrymen was missing, but Sephiroth pushed them onward without stopping to look for him. Unfortunate. But at least Tifa was safe, and this was where her knowledge really paid off. She knew the layout of every cave that traversed through the mountain range. They were convoluted like ant tunnels, but she guided them expertly through each one. Cloud was really impressed.  
  
It was within one of these maze-like tunnels that they happened upon a mako fountain, a miracle of nature. It was so beautiful, glowing in bright otherworldly greens. It was sad to realize that eventually it would dry up and vanish once the mako reactor drained away the power feeding it. It was so rare to see mako crystalized in its natural state; he was so used to seeing the spherical results of it being artificially condensed into materia. At that time, Cloud had felt like such an idiot. Despite being a First-Class SOLDIER, he had not known what materia truly was and how it allowed the use of magic. Sephiroth had wasted no time justifyingly chastising him for his ignorance.  
  
‘The knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients are held in the materia,’ Sephiroth had said. ‘Anyone with this knowledge can freely use the powers of the land and the planet.’ That knowledge that interacts between people and the planet is what others called magic. Though it was not so mysterious a power as he had thought and should not even be considered magic…_  
  
“Well damn, I guess I never really thought about materia in that way, I kinda just took it for granted. But that mako fountain and you saying it would probably be drained away, that’s what I’ve been saying this whole time! That’s exactly what will eventually happen to the entire planet if we don’t stop Shinra.” Barret said while pounding his chest with resolve.  
  
Cloud lazily looked at Barret before he continued.  
  
_They had finally made it to the reactor, but they certainly took the scenic route. Despite her objections, Cloud had asked Tifa to wait outside because he thought it would be dangerous, nevermind that it was full of Shinra’s industrial secrets, and unauthorized individuals were not allowed inside, or so Sephiroth declared. After the remaining infantryman was ordered to keep Tifa from sneaking inside, much to her frustration, Sephiroth and Cloud braved through the reactor entrance.  
  
At first, Cloud was taken aback by how poorly the entrance was designed. It was a death trap! He had to balance on thin metal pipes, and shimmy across them haphazardly, teetering over a sure demise, and then he had to climb down a huge chain that led to a larger pipe doubling as a catwalk with no guardrails that stretched across a huge mako infused chasm. Any slip or false move and he would have plummeted to a quick death, and that was all before he even got into the first chamber. That was ridiculous! Who builds places like that? The fuck?! Sucks to be the overweight mechanic that has to service something further inside. Fuck Shinra.  
  
Once inside the first chamber, Cloud was disturbed by the ominous scenery. A dozen large pods lined either side of a steep stairwell that led up to the inner second chamber that was marked with eerie capital letters ‘JENOVA’ above the door._  
  
“Oh shit, there is Jenova again,” Barret gawked.  
  
“Shhh!!!” Tifa hushed him.  
  
_The inner Jenova chamber was locked by a heavy steel door, so their attention was directed at the pods on either side. They had come to investigate the malfunction and made quick work discovering that one of the pods had been damaged. With a simple turn of a pressure valve, the situation was mended, but then the question of why it broke bothered Sephiroth. The entire mako reactor had a very specific purpose. It was a complicated system that condensed and froze mako energy and that energy was being funneled into every pod. It only took a quick glimpse inside one of the pods to realize a terrible truth.  
  
Inside each pod lay sleeping a terrible monstrosity.  
  
Normal members of SOLDIER are humans that have been showered with mako. But then what were these monsters? They were exposed to a higher degree of mako and became mutated as a result. Shinra and its lead scientist were responsible._  
  
“This was all that scientist’s fault? That’s fucked up,” Barret whispered.  
  
“Hojo…” Red growled dangerously as he bared his teeth with the word.  
  
“There must have been hundreds, no, _thousands_ of pods in the Shinra building that we just saw,” Tifa gasped. “Do you think all of them had some poor soul suffering inside?”  
  
“Yeah,” was Cloud’s only response.  
  
“Who would have ever thought that the mako reactor held such a secret,” Tifa sighed.  
  
“Damn, Shinra!” Barret roared. “The more I hear, the more I hate ‘em!”  
  
Cloud ran a shaky hand through blond spikes once again, an occurrence that was happening more frequently in response to his mounting stress.  
  
“From that point forward did everything change. Sephiroth… changed. For _days_ he hunkered down in the Shinra mansion and continued to read the archives there as if possessed. Not once did the lights in the basement go out.”  
  
“I was worried… so I went to check on him… He was cold, bitter… cruel. He brushed right past me and then…”  
  
Cloud choked on the words as if they clawed and dug into his throat; his mouth was dry, lips cracked, his teeth creaked as they clenched, his heart pounded in his chest, deafening like drums; he was dizzy, anxiety gripped him, hands shook with trepidation, vision blurred, the onset of a panic attack; the words he fought were labored from him, but what should have been a spiteful, impassioned response was little more than an enfeebled whimper encased in sorrow.  
  
“…Nibelheim… in flames… my mother… Tifa’s father…”  
  
As he whispered the painful memories, flashes of misery, of orange, of ash, of screams and agony, of loss, drilled into his mind in bright, distorted, and grotesque images. Cloud held his head in a cry of anguish as the reflections of his past assaulted him. As his only recourse, his affliction and distress were channeled into the only feasible outlet he had available to him – anger.  
  
Inflicted but refusing to succumb, he lashed out with shouted, sharp, and hostile edicts.  
  
“He went from war hero to mass murderer! I did not understand it then. I do not want to understand it now. I can never forgive him!!!”  
  
The visions faded but his torment did not.  
  
With head in hands, he all but sank back into his chair, deflated, “I see him… everywhere,” Cloud fought back a sob that threatened, it was all he could do to keep it together. “Illusions of him haunt me _hourly_.”  
  
He was too ashamed of his confessions and his desolation to meet anyone’s eyes. The few, silent, and awkward moments that passed only compounded the painful reality.  
  
_This was a mistake. This was all a mistake._  
  
Then unexpected mercy. The silence was broken by amenity.  
  
“Hey, man, I understand,” Barret said with a surprising degree of gentleness and compassion as he placed a hand on Cloud’s bare shoulder. “He did you and Tifa wrong, and we are gunna make him pay; show him what’s what.”  
  
Reserved, Cloud lowered his hands from grasping fists of his hair and slowly opened his eyes. What met him were not the judgmental gazes of pity and disgust, but the sincerely concerned and earnest eyes of his friends. It was comforting and encouraging and with it returned a sliver of his resolve to finish his tale.  
  
“I confronted Sephiroth in the Jenova chamber.”  
  
“Yeah?” Barret said with excitement.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well??”  
  
“That’s the end of my story,” Cloud said with a roll of his shoulder.  
  
“Wait a damn minute!” Barret barked. “That’s it? No more?”  
  
“I don’t remember.”  
  
“What happened to Sephiroth?” Aerith asked.  
  
“In terms of skill, I couldn’t possibly have killed him. And yet… I know I killed him with my own hands. But that’s… that’s clearly impossible because he isn’t dead.”  
  
“Out with it!” Barret growled. “How did you ‘kill’ him?”  
  
“I don’t remember.”  
  
“Fuck, are you serious? How the hell can you remember killing him but not remember how you killed him?”  
  
Cloud just shook his head. “I never said I remember killing him, only that I know that I did.”  
  
“Bullshit! Now you’re pissing me off!”  
  
“Official records state Sephiroth is dead. I read it in the newspaper,” Tifa interjected.  
  
“Shinra owns the newspapers, so you can’t rely on that,” Aerith added.  
  
“Clearly! He seems pretty fucking spry for a dead guy! He has been all over the damn place!”  
  
“I want to know the truth,” Cloud truthfully proclaimed with a sigh. “I want to know what happened. I challenged Sephiroth and lived and apparently so did he. So why didn’t he kill me then? And why didn’t he kill me recently? In that fight we just had, he was just… toying with me, like he was enjoying himself. Our recent battle seemed almost _nostalgic_ for him.”  
  
There were other things to discuss too, so much more, but he was so damn tired.  
  
“A lot of this doesn’t make sense,” Aerith added thoughtfully. “What about Jenova? It was in the Shinra building, right? We all saw it, yes?”  
  
“Shinra shipped it from Nibelheim to Midgar.”  
  
“Yes, but did someone carry it out? It was missing from the Shinra building later,” Aerith said.  
  
Something about that bothered Cloud. Not that Jenova was missing, but that Aerith knew that it was.  
  
“Sephiroth, maybe?” Tifa wondered.  
  
Cloud felt the need to apologize.  
  
“I am sorry if a lot of this doesn’t make sense, and it gets even stranger. Before Nibelheim, before Sephiroth went insane, he was an unmatched swordsman, his skill was incredible, but it was still within some semblance of mortal levels. But the Sephiroth we just faced? He threw all of _Midgar_ at us. It’s like… he is a god.”  
  
“He _did_ throw Midgar at us, but that’s impossible!” Tifa gasped. “We all saw Midgar after the fight and it was fine. So, what was that destruction we witnessed? And how is he so powerful? And who throws an entire city at someone? That’s insane!”  
  
“Throwing whole buildings at others is not normal human behavior?” Red asked with jest.  
  
“Hell no!!!” Barret shouted.  
  
“Oh, okay good, because I was about to be really disappointed in all of you,” Red smirked.  
  
“Hrm… didn’t he also suck up all of those whispers and then use them against us later? That was unexpected. Does that mean he controls the whispers now…” Aerith said in a perplexed manner as she tapped a cheek with an index finger, deep in thought.  
  
There was that odd feeling again that prickled Cloud. It felt like Aerith knew something more than she was letting on.  
  
“Damn! None of this makes any sense!” Barret exclaimed as he made his way to the exit. “It’s just too much for me, I need a break, shit. I’m going to head to the bar for now, and I am leaving the thinking up to you.”  
  
“I’ll go with him to keep him out of trouble,” Aerith smiled with a wink before following Barret out the door.  
  
“What a fascinating story,” Red declared as he picked himself up from his lying position on the floor. He gave himself a good, long stretch on his front paws, then, with a quick and satisfying scratch behind an ear, followed by a thorough shake of his body, he bounded out of the hotel exit, leaving Tifa and Cloud alone in the foyer.  
  
Tifa shifted in her seat and suddenly Cloud felt a little uncomfortable. He wondered if she was angry at him for including some details and leaving out others entirely. He had noticed her odd, puzzled looks throughout his recollection and it bothered him.  
  
She broke the silence with his name.  
  
“Cloud?”  
  
He softly grunted in response.  
  
“How bad was I after Sephiroth stabbed me?”  
  
The question surprised him.  
  
“I thought you were going to die. I was… devastated. I’m sorry I did not mention your involvement to the others. I was-”  
  
She cut him off as if to spare him the difficulty of explaining his reasoning. “Ha, it’s fine. I was just curious. That part is fuzzy for me too.”  
  
“Hey, are you alright?” Cloud asked.  
  
“Yeah, and you?” Tifa replied with concern.  
  
“Just tired. Going to go lay down for a little while. Maybe we can head out later today?”  
  
“Of course.”  
________________________________________________________________________

  
Cloud Strife restlessly and anxiously tossed in bed, unable to calm himself enough to relax despite his utter exhaustion. Covered in a cold sweat, he had thrown off most of his gear and clothing in sheer frustration; those discarded elements hanging upon chairs and littering the floor in an untidy disorder. He had kept his slacks on however if only to hide his malady: repression of severe yearning.  
  
The desperation of his need had only become fully apparent when he attempted to retire to his hotel room. It was then that he became unfortunately aware of his situation, that somewhere during his retelling about _that bastard_ , he had grown aroused, painfully so; he ached terribly, and it continued to linger well afterward. Cloud could only thank Gaia that Tifa had already left the hotel lobby when he stood up to head to his room. The change in position and friction of his cargo pants made his seeping erection surge harrowing desire throughout his body.  
  
Cloud growled in fury as he slammed his fist into the sheets repetitively, his options aggravatingly limited. He refused to relieve himself, for if he did, surely, _he_ would spark into Cloud’s mind during the process, the acknowledgment of that was even more infuriating. Out of fear of beckoning his nemesis, his only recourse was to wait, however long, for the situation to correct itself, for his desire to pass.  
  
Enraged with himself, the situation, and his own corrupted mind, he flung himself from the bed and nearly collapsed on the sink of the bathroom, gasping heavily, bare chest and back glistening with heady perspiration. Just the act of walking was aggravating his need, but he completely dismissed the idea of removing his pants and undergarments to relieve the friction. He loathed the idea of looking at his disgusting, disloyal body so engorged with desire… _for him_! The thought of it made him _sick._  
  
Why was his body betraying him?!  
  
He quickly turned on the cold-water faucet and greedily sloshed a copious amount of water over the back of his neck, just praying that eventually this hell will be over.  
  
In the midst of his wash, he let out a choked, strained wail as his vision glitched and static blinded his thoughts.  
  
_NO!!!_  
  
His mind screamed in defiance, but even so, he could not stop the overwhelming headache that dropped him to his knees in agony. He writhed in both pain and fury, pulsing throbs decimated his cranium in merciless waves; hands clawed at his scalp in desperation to maintain a semblance of control of his vision, but everything blurred into indistinct shapes and colors.  
  
Why were these episodes becoming more difficult to resist?!  
  
With willpower alone did he pull himself upon his feet. Stumbling awkwardly and blindly about the room, he grappled for his elegant but deadly weapon, Twin Stinger, knocking over furniture, confection, and stationary alike in his urgent quest. Finally, his palm landed on the hilt and none too soon for his assailant was upon him. His vision was compromised, but his hearing was keen. The soft whistling of a malicious but magnificent katana effortlessly cutting through the air was his only indication and he managed to intercept the blade with his own, but only just. The blow was immensely strong, incredibly so, throwing Cloud’s arms to the side so abruptly, he feared they might dislocate.  
  
There was no reprieve to the onslaught; Cloud sensed another savage strike incoming; adrenaline, fear, and muscle memory were the only things guiding him now. The strain and stress upon his arms were great; the musculous fibers and tendons labored grievously to ensure he blocked the next assault. The impact connected with Twin Stinger powerfully enough to knock the weapon fully across Cloud’s body to slam into the adjacent wall, becoming embedded into the wood and steel as a result.  
  
With a scream of acrimony, Cloud strained to free the weapon, his arm’s shaking with muscle failure at his attempt, but it was short-lived as a hand fully encompassed both of his wrists and viciously smashed them up against the wall behind him. A strangled cry of agony pierced from him as the immense vibrations fractured bone.  
  
The hand gripping him drew tighter still, grinding his broken wrists together brutally and earning a truncated wail from Cloud. The cruel onslaught continued until he could no longer feel his hands, Twin Stinger’s hilt surrendered in the process, and he sunk to his knees in resignation; his body and mind wracked with suffering, his tormentor mercilessly lambasting him on multiple fronts.  
  
With his assailant’s assurance of dominance, Cloud’s vision cleared, his headache dispersed and the pressure upon his wrists eased slightly.  
  
His eyes rapidly focused though he wished they had not for there before him stood the harbinger of his torture: callous and wicked, debased and brutal, imposing and ominous, towering and unequaled, otherworldly and elegant, _gorgeous and magnificent_ , Sephiroth.  
  
Cloud’s hands twitched, fingers slowly outstretching towards and then curling around the hilt of Twin Stinger, his muscles rippling and straining for purchase, but the resistance was short-lived and abandoned; his body was at its limit; he was just too exhausted. He leaned forward limply, being supported only by the unwavering grip upon his wrists that were pinned above his head and pressed into the wall.  
  
“I _hate_ you,” he seethed softly through clenched teeth.  
  
“Is that so?” Sephiroth’s smooth baritone voice chimed.  
  
Cloud bowed his head forward in veiled grief, welcoming shards of saffron that fell across his eyes, obstructing vision of his tormentor.  
  
His field of view was now limited to the ground immediately before him, but even so, he could still see the dangerous glint of a treacherous weapon that hung precariously close to his kneeling form. Cloud had been easily disarmed, but Sephiroth was still brandishing his blade like a stayed executioner.  
  
The lethal end of Masamune edged threateningly towards him causing the flush of panic to churn in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“You are not being honest with me, nor yourself, _Cloud_ ,” his voice dripped with malice.  
  
The hair on the back of Cloud’s neck raised in dread.  
  
With the grace and precision of a master surgeon, and with a flash of movement, the very tip of Sephiroth’s weapon effortlessly glided across thick material right above Cloud’s groin.  
  
The younger man seized in horror; that slice was too close, too fierce, too _intimate_. Through the silence and dense foreboding that followed, he could not stop a tremor from jarring his body as his tormentor watched on with dark anticipation. Another brief moment passed before the sound of coarse fabric tearing interrupted the deafening quiet. That cut had been perfectly immaculate, slicing along the seams of layered clothing and freeing the trapped flesh underneath as easily as unfastening a zipper; not so much as a prick of skin was left in that deadly weapon’s wake. Flawless execution.  
  
Despite the situation, despite his pain and terror, his throbbing erection was undaunted, and perhaps even encouraged, by his harsh treatment and the unwavering focus of the other’s obsession. It quickly made its presence known, protruding from the window created for it just as expectant but not quite as innocent as a baby bird hatching.  
  
“Still?!” Cloud gasped in dismay.  
  
Cloud had suffered through an unrequited need for so long, that his member, seeping and twitching desperately, had taken on a dark mauve hue.  
  
There was a low hum of deep satisfaction; those cruel, slitted emerald eyes drinking in the beautiful sight. “My, what a lovely shade.”  
  
“You sick bastard!!!” Cloud screamed as tears welled up in his eyes from fear, humiliation, and hatred.  
  
He squirmed violently, twisting his fractured wrists within their leather-bound, clamp-like vice, howling in pain and contempt, but to no avail. With escape currently an impossibility, he shifted his positioning, curling in on himself and clamping his legs together to try to mitigate his exposure.  
  
His captor did not agree.  
  
Masamune began sliding between his pressed knees, forcing Cloud to split them quickly lest he be injured. With more area to work with, the flat of the blade was pressed into the inner thigh, the supple flesh beneath the cloth responding with a tremor of fear. Sephiroth forced his legs further apart with gentle but malevolent pressure. Cloud had no real choice but to comply, spreading himself as far as he was demanded as his tormentor looked on with demented fancy.  
  
“You will do well not to hide from me,” the older man’s voice was soft, but his threat was sinister.  
  
This was all about control, subjugation, and dominance.  
  
The slow, psychological torture was having an adverse effect upon Cloud – reduced to nothing more than an object of perverse fascination. All he could do was cower in the other’s shadow.  
  
“You’re such… a piece of shit… irredeemable…” Cloud choked out through a series of sobs as tears streamed down his face.  
  
“Focus, Cloud,” the man said as he motioned to the other’s still destitute erection with an open hand, his katana was gone. “Is this what you needed me for?” the smug grin could not be any bleaker.  
  
“I don’t need anything from you!!” he wailed in sorrow and self-pity.  
  
“Oh?” Sephiroth said as his hand reached back to snake through the clothing that Cloud had discarded upon the chair.  
  
“Then what is this for?” Sephiroth asked with a widening smirk that hinted at pearly enamel as he displayed the black feather that Cloud had squirreled away. “Collecting souvenirs, are we?”  
  
Cloud’s face flushed so heatedly, he felt feverish. There was nothing he could say, he could only glare at the taller man vindictively, if only to hide his overwhelming shame.  
  
His eyes shot open in alarm as Sephiroth maneuvered that feather towards Cloud. He knew what was coming.  
  
“W-wait!! Y-you said if… if I yearned! _I DIDN’T_!!!” he screamed spitefully.  
  
“Indeed, my covenant to you, and true, you were quite resilient, but did I say that I would only visit you under those circumstances?”  
  
A low whimper of dread was Cloud’s only response.  
  
“No? Then I will continue.”  
  
Sephiroth – his demon, his executioner, his angel clad in black – lowered himself to one knee between Cloud’s legs while brandishing that feather and twirling it in his fingers in an intrigued and fascinated way. Immorality glinted within inhuman sea green that sunk into quivering blue like a famished predator.  
  
“Do not worry, your friends are all out enjoying this quaint little town. You may be as vocal as you desire.”  
  
The soft, delicate vanes of the feather were lowered upon the tip of Cloud’s need and they gently and _slowly_ caressed down the swollen length of his shaft.  
  
A piercing moan broke from him as he reflexively jerked his hips upwards in mindless craving, chasing any sort of additional stimulation as he writhed in pleasure and chained desire. The touch was so light, so torturously silken.

His voice took on a pleading whine, so wanton was his lust, so destitute was his appetite and for far too long ignored. His hitched breathing and quivering gasps were accentuated by a cry of absolute desperation as the feather traveled back up his pulsing shaft and twirled around the head, toying gingerly with the tiny opening.  
  
Seed seeped out to meet its visitor, tainting the black feather with a glistening coating heavy and thick enough to weigh down and put pressure upon the rachis, causing the once stately plume to wilt like an unwatered flower.  
  
Ruining its visage, but not as the object of his torment, the feather continued its journey of desolation, streaking Cloud’s own seed across his member that twitched despondently with every devious stroke. His eyes fluttered, his back arched and his wails of approaching yet denied plateaus were ripped from him repetitively as the ministrations of that feather continued, painting Cloud’s entire shaft with a glazed varnish.  
  
He could not hold back a scream of frustration once all contact with that feather abruptly ceased. All semblances of inhibition had long disintegrated, leaving Cloud a feverish, delirious, throbbing, helpless prisoner. He bucked wildly into the void in front of him, mindlessly desperate for any friction; his captor watching on with morbid curiosity. Over and over he shamelessly thrusted; the cool air evaporating the sheen upon his member, the prickling sensation leaving him only more irrational as he slammed his hips outward… _but nothing_!  
  
“Please… please… anything! _Anything_! Please! Please…” his pleas were on repeat, just as his thrusts into nothing were.  
  
Finally, _finally_ , he hit a solid object. Sephiroth had eased his leather-clad thigh close enough so that Cloud could just barely make contact. It was enough, it had to be! Cloud grinded into his nemesis with abandon, rutting into him like a fringe beast.  
  
“A picturesque portrait of depravity. Is this degradation truly more acceptable than simply yearning for my attention?” Sephiroth quipped.  
  
Guttural rasping was Cloud’s only verbal response; he was far too gone to even process words. He repetitively collided with Sephiroth’s thigh; with his wrists still claimed above him, and his need still unquenched, his only resolve was an uncompromised climax; the circumstances leading to that result no longer mattered.  
  
The pleasure was so painful… the pain was so pleasurable… He was so close now. He slowly tilted his head back as the building, blinding sensation began to overwhelm him.  
  
Sephiroth gently claimed Cloud’s chin within his free hand and lowered it back down to eye level.  
  
“Eyes on me, Cloud,” he softly demanded.  
  
He came just like that, with eyes locked upon the vile curse that haunted him. His face twisted with absolute ecstasy, pupils blown with overwhelming pleasure, his breathing devolved into a series of satisfied whimpers, and all the while Sephiroth watched keenly every facial fluctuation while delicately caressing Cloud’s cheek with a thumb.  
  
“Hmm, beautiful,” the silver-haired man hummed.  
  
When Cloud’s wrists were finally freed, he had no longer any shred of strength to support his weight, so drained was his mind, body, and spirit. He slumped to the ground like an overturned pile of magazines, colliding with the wooden floor unceremoniously. He lay there nearly lifeless, his light, panting, and ragged breath the only indication of existence but not of sentience. His eyes were lidded, distant, and empty; his mouth hung open as saliva slowly dripped unchecked.  
  
His captor paused and regarded his prize thoughtfully, but ultimately, he frowned disapprovingly.  
  
“You do not yet realize how deep the lie is that you are living. Your current facade is but an imperfect shadow of the original. You stubbornly nurse this fraudulent mythos yet lack the courage to embody the spiritual strength it should represent.”  
  
The words were heard, but they were not understood. They meaninglessly moved through Cloud and were quickly forgotten as easily as a summer’s breeze.  
  
“You are physically more capable than you were _before_ , but your self-worth is even more brittle. That is _not_ an improvement. As you are now, I doubt your shattered mind could survive the trials that are yet to come.”  
  
There was no response from Cloud. He was still conscious, but the words were all but wasted upon him.  
  
“Seven seconds _was_ enough time for you to silently scream your heart’s single most desire into the cosmos. The impending struggle to reconcile with the consequences that will arise from your choice is _my gift to you_. Learn from it; grow stronger from it.”  
  
Cloud’s vision began to grow dark, a merciful release into sleep that his body craved. A few footsteps removed the looming shadow from his vision.  
  
“There is still so much more that needs to be done.”  
  
Then Sephiroth was gone.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“It was a pretty nice place, not gunna lie, but I’m glad we are out of there. The Kalm innkeeper was so pissed at you, Cloud, shit!” Barret’s gruff voice jarred Cloud out of the fog that had settled upon his mind. “Seriously, why the fuck were you sword practicing in your room? There was plenty of space outside.”  
  
“Yeah… I’m sorry, I know that was a… pricy mistake,” Cloud responded. What could he possibly say in response but to apologize? There was zero chance he was going to tell them the truth on why his sword got lodged into the wall.  
  
“You’ll make it up to us, right, mercenary for hire?” Tifa said with a smile and a wink.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Just then, Cloud caught a glimpse of movement in the distance. There was someone waving their arms frantically and shouting at them, it was kind of obnoxious.  
  
“Who the hell is that? He looks like a crazed idiot. A kooky, fucking moron,” Barret said with a quirk of his eyebrow.  
  
The group, who were just leaving the outskirts of Kalm, paused as a disheveled figure came running up to them with a rather goofy, carefree expression plastered all over his face. It was alarming and odd as this person was dressed… like a First-Class SOLDIER. It instantly put Cloud on edge and everyone around him took note and steeled themselves for trouble.  
  
“Hey! Phew! Found ya! Cloud, Aerith!” Zack Fair jogged to them with a huge grin. “You really make a guy feel wanted,” he said with a quirky dryness. “I must have missed the memo that we were to meet up in Kalm.”  
  
“Zack?!” Cloud and Aerith gasped in unison.  
  
A piercing headache racked through Cloud’s mind in devastating waves that left only destruction and void in their wake. His hands clawed painfully at his skull to no avail. The last thing Cloud remembered is the ground rushing up towards the side of his face.  
  
“Cloud!” the whole gang yelled in surprise, with Tifa being the quickest to act. She flung herself forward and managed to catch the unconscious man before he collided with the unforgiving earth.  
  
“Cloud, what happened? Are you alright?” Tifa urgently yet softly spoke to him as she lowered him tenderly to the ground. As gentle as she could be, she supported his head within her lap while smoothing away golden spikes from his closed eyes.  
  
“Hey! Asshole! What’s your deal?” Barret bristled like a grizzly bear as he sprang towards the intruder and loomed aggressively over the shorter man.  
  
“What did I do?!” Zack said with eyes the size of saucers. He quickly peered over at Tifa with a genuinely surprised and concerned look on his face, “What happened to Cloud?”  
  
“ _What. The. Actual. Fuck_?!” Barret roared. “Don’t you dare go near him! Cloud becomes catatonic the moment your ass shows up? And he has a fucking migraine when he looks at you so strong that he passes out? And you know who gives him migraines like that? Sephiroth!”  
  
“Sephiroth? WHAT?!” Zack gasped and nearly toppled over. “He’s alive?”  
  
“You wanna go right now?!” Barret yelled as he raised the barrel of his gun a mere two feet away from Zack’s face. “I’m so tired of your shit! You are not tricking us into doing your bidding again, you freak. Get that katana out! Or use that broadsword on your back. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck what you use.”  
  
“Are you serious right now?!” Zack nearly yelped while raising his hands in surrender.  
  
“There is a fight? Are we fighting?!” an excited and eager Red bounced on his paws while baring his rows of fangs at the dusky-haired man.  
  
Zack panickily looked to Aerith for salvation, apparently his only lifeline. To his grief, she looked confused and conflicted, but at least she seemed willing to deescalate the situation.  
  
“Wait… please, hold on…” Aerith said weakly, her hands rising to her head in severe stress.  
  
“Fuck you!!! What are you doing to Aerith?!” Barret roared.  
  
The back of Red’s neck bristled as he glared dangerously at the unfamiliar man.  
  
“W-wait!! I’m Cloud’s friend! Zack, Zack Fair. Are you sure he never mentioned my name? I just talked to him a few days ago! I brought him to Midgar, and we were going to meet up today. It was only when neither Aerith nor Cloud came to our agreed meeting spot that I got worried and started looking.”  
  
“Bullshit. If you are so fucking important in his life, then why has Cloud never even mentioned you once?” Barret challenged with a heavy glare.  
  
Zack stood flabbergasted with his hands on his hips in dismay. “I… I don’t know.”  
  
“Yeah? Thought so. Get your lying piece-of-shit face out of my face,” Barret growled dangerously as he dismissed Zack outright.  
  
When Zack continued to stand there, staring like an idiot, Barret scowled like a devil. “Well?! _I said get the fuck out of here_! You better be nothing but a tiny speck in the distance real, _real_ shortly. Understand?!”  
  
“But… but!! Umm… Umm!!! Tifa!? Tifa, right?!” Zack motioned hastily towards the woman who so gently was caring for Cloud’s unconscious form. “You don’t remember me? I was with Cloud when you happened upon us loitering around the train station. Cloud was in a bad way, but he came around when he saw you. He planned to go with you without a weapon, like a goober, so I forced him to carry Buster Sword. Once I was relieved enough that he found a friend, I went off to see Aerith. That’s… that’s all I know!”  
  
Tifa looked disturbed as she eyed Zack and then cradled Cloud’s head protectively. “You were not with him when I found him; he did not mention you, and he said he had come to Midgar _alone_.”  
  
“What?! But… after all I did… I… I don’t understand…” Zack said with growing despair.  
  
His last shred of hope was with Aerith, and he looked at her with dire desperation. “Aerith! Did we not talk but a few days ago? The very first thing I did once getting back to Midgar was to seek you out. We sat in the church and talked for _hours and hours_. I told you everything! Sometimes you laughed, lots of times you cried… it was a tough story to tell, but I was honest about everything and you were so happy to be reunited…” Zack's voice sank when there was zero recollection in Aerith’s sorrowful eyes.  
  
Aerith sadly shook her head in dismay. “I don’t remember any of that. I’m… I’m sorry. The Zack I knew… he died,” soft tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.  
  
“What…” Zack’s very soul seemed to deflate. His heart sank.  
  
“That proves it, fake Zack lies,” Red flicked his ears and snapped his jaws. “I don’t trust him, he smells… like Cloud. _Something is off about him_. I say we shred him for good measure.”  
  
“Pretending to be like Cloud to make us lower our guard; get in our good graces? What a fucking bastard. He’s a dead man,” Barret darkly stated as he preloaded his chambers.  
  
Zack dropped to his knees and placed his hands on his head submissively, then lowered himself forward in complete subjugation. “Please… please wait. I don’t know what is going on, but please, let me just talk to Cloud when he wakes up! Tie me up if you don’t trust me, but please let me talk to him!!”  
  
“So you can mind fuck him again? Fuck no, you sinister fuck,” Barret spat with resolve.  
  
“Time’s up, fake Zack,” Red readied to pounce.  
  
“Stop!” Aerith was quick to place herself between Zack and Red. “Please… just let him go. I don’t want to see… him hurt.”  
  
“To hell with him, Aerith! He is clearly lying,” Barret yelled.  
  
“But… what if he isn’t? I don’t… I don’t know yet… this is sudden… I just need time to think,” Aerith struggled to place her words. “After our battle with Sephiroth… I did feel a change in the lifestream… but it’s… it is hard to explain and I am still trying to figure it out. And even if he is lying, I won’t stand to watch him suffer, even a likeness of him.”  
  
She turned to face Zack who looked like he was about to crumble.  
  
“If you are not Zack, it is terribly cruel to pretend to be him,” Aerith said with no small degree of pain.  
  
“But… I _am_ Zack…” was his only weak defense.  
  
“Just leave!” she said with tears dampening her lashes.  
  
“Aerith…” was Zack’s sorrowful response.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Hours later, back at Kalm’s only bar…  
  
“Hey barkeep… am I real?” was the troubled and slightly awkward question that blurted out of Zack abruptly.  
  
“Your gil better fucking be. That’s some pricy shit you are drinking,” he said with a smirk.  
  
Zack nearly spit out said expensive shit. “Cheeky bastard,” he grinned.  
  
He slammed some gil on the counter before downing his glass. With a heavy sigh, he slowly lowered his head before nodding expectantly to the barkeeper. “Keep them coming then. I need… a bit of solace.”  
  
“Don’t we all, friend.”


End file.
